Ivan squawked in anger. “That… That’s enough for now.” He said, then soared into the sky beyond earshot. Hilda frowned, as if suddenly pained by my words. I shifted my gaze between her and the sky, watching in bewilderment as Ivanellios glided high above the crowd. What did I say?
Feeling bad (though not quite sure why), I turned to Hilda. “I.. I’m sorry, Hil. I didn’t mean to upset him.”
She placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’s alright. It’s just… I can feel it, Zander. Something terrible happened to him and his former master… something that’s still haunting him. I know he likes to bring up that he was once a warden…. He’s just proud is all. He needs some time.”
I motioned to respond, but an approaching rider quickly cut me off. He veered his horse in between us, forcing Hilda to the side. She scoffed, but he didn’t even bother to look at her. Damnit all was he ever rude.
“Darkblade?” The man asked, a stern look on his face. He was a member of the drakengard, as was evident by the red and gold dragon symbol on his silvery breastplate.
“Um, yes?”
“The captain would have a word.” He said, pointing north.
“Captain?” I asked with hesitation. The man merely responded with a nod, so I looked in the direction he was pointing.
He was motioning directly at Arden.
><><
With trepidation, I rode Zephyr towards the front of the procession, slowing until I matched stride with Arden. The man looked refined atop his brown steed, dressed in finely made cloth armor that hugged his muscled body with a flowing crimson cape that trailed just behind. He was quite a way out in front… certainly out of earshot of the other players and his drakengard guildmates. I looked directly at the man, but he didn’t so much as flinch. He had to have known I was there, even if Zephyr’s trotting was nearly silent. Damnit, why hadn’t he looked at me?
“I presume you are the one called Darkblade?” he asked, his voice firm and focused, gaze still straight ahead.
“I am.” I responded, trying to come off cool and collected.
“I heard your name spoken among some of the other players… They spoke of a man who attacked the dragon head on… a man that held the creature’s aggression for an entire minute and survived.”
I tried to hide a grin… Perhaps I had been noticed. “Sounds about right.” I responded, as if it were no big deal. “What of it?”
Finally, Arden turned to look at me, his face deadly serious.
“Do you know how I became a captain amongst the drakengard?” I opened my mouth to respond, but he didn’t give me the chance. “I killed… and I killed well. You see, the gard, they came seeking me. They heard of the man who’d survived the culling on his own... After being recruited, they sent me on a quest with a group of their elites. It was supposed to be a straightforward assignment… an opportunity for growth; seek out a group of defectors and eliminate them. Of course, I went along, unaware of the foes we would be facing.” He paused, clenching his teeth together. “The mission went south. The defectors had found allies and we wound up surrounded by an entire group of former elites… warriors with no intention of mercy. Most of the men I was with perished, leaving me alone to face down those honorless bastards.” Again, his eyes met mine. They burned with an intensity that nearly made me shudder. “Many men would have said their last rites… I did not. I fought with everything I had. I ignored their pleas… pleas that they had ignored from my comrades just moments before… I killed every last one of them!” Arden composed himself in his saddle. “When I returned to the guard I was awarded the title of captain. Those men I faced were allegedly much stronger than I, but it didn’t matter. I proved that behind all of the attributes and level ups, that this is still a world where the strong-willed shall survive and the weak-willed shall fall.”
I stared at the man, stunned. When we first met he had brushed me off like a peasant, but now….
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I asked
“Because Darkblade, being here I can only assume that you’re heading to Airrigar for the tournament... it’d be a shame to see you die so senselessly.”
“Die?” I gasped. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m telling you that you sound like quite the fighter… one of the strong-willed… and it would be a shame to throw your life away. You see, I’m going to win that tournament Darkblade, and if we inevitably cross paths in the arena… then I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
32
On we marched.
We had amassed into a giant group, a procession of warlocks and warriors, bards and barbarians, players of all classes and levels marching down the high road towards the same destination…. Airrigar.
News of the tournament had spread quickly through the realm… and with it, excitement. Many wanted to prove that they were the best this world had to offer… to earn the game’s ultimate glory. Still, others just wanted to watch the world’s best duke it out in glorious bloody combat. Me? Well, my reasons for entering the tournament were starting to become a bit more complicated….
“He threatened to kill you?!” Hilda snapped, causing her windsteed to release a startled huff. She turned and shot a glare up towards the front of the group, as if Arden could see her from here.
“Oh, you have got to kick his ass now.” Helena added as her steed lazily trotted behind.
And damnit all, was she right. That man… no, that bastard needed to be knocked down a few pegs…. especially after that open threat! Still, something about him bothered me, a mystique that surrounded the mysterious duelist. He always seemed to emerge the lone victor of his trials. For some reason it had me feeling… apprehensive.
“What, you’re not scared of that punk, are you Zan?” Helena probed. I suddenly realized I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t responded to her first statement.
“Yeah, he’s scared.” Doomswell, Helena’s familiar added with a grin. Razyr gave him a growl for his troubles.
“No, that’s not it.” I said. “It’s just… I want to be certain we’re taking the right course of action here. Wesley said the tournament would be our best chance at getting close to Vazryn. I don’t want to screw that up with a personal vendetta.”
Helena rolled her eyes in response. The fiery warlock was not one to back down from a fight. Hilda, however, wore a contemplative look on face. “You know, Wesley was pretty vague on how we go about handling this whole thing. Perhaps, once we sort things out you’ll get your chance at both.”
I shrugged. One could hope.
Up ahead, I caught sight of Brenton and Taryn frantically flagging us down. They’d decided to ride near the front of the parade of players, eager to catch the first glimpse of the arena city. By the looks of jubilance on their faces, it seems they had.
I urged Zephyr forward and the windsteed galloped up towards the pair. As I drew closer to the duo, I caught sight of something off in the distance… and my jaw quite literally dropped.
Ahead, a massive stone wall stretched so high that it seemed to reach towards the heavens themselves. It was an enormous barricade encircling an even grander city at its center. Atop the wall, giant flags flapped in the wind beside a series of small flaming braziers; one for each of the four great guilds, as well as a number of smaller flags for the minor guilds that had sprung up as of late. Guards who looked like tiny ants from this distance scampered across the top of the wall, alerting each other of the massive procession of players approaching the city’s steel grate.
We had reached Airrigar.
><><
Within the hour we were safely inside the city walls, welcomed by a regime of wall guards as well as a few members of the cinderguard, Vazryn’s personal elites. It almost seemed odd to me how easily they opened the doors for us… that is until I noticed the red and gold dragon insignias on most of the guardsmen’s cloaks….
Drakengard.
Apparently, Airrigar was also Home to one of their guild strongh
olds. Now, not only was I traveling with a man who promised to see me dead, but I was also staying in a city filled with his closest allies… lovely.
Still, the number of the people in the city was astounding, which lent some comfort. Perhaps it was time that Zander Darkblade learn an important lesson from Adam… going unnoticed.
The others were quite enamored with the sprawling metropolis. The city was built in a large circle with a massive sprawling arena at the city’s heart. Rows of stone seating encircled the battle area accompanied by a personal seating box for the lord and his constituents. Smaller structures were built around the arena with taller buildings and towers lying in the outskirts of the city. This was done purposefully so one could catch a glimpse of the arena from any point in Airrigar. This truly was the arena city.
The day was young, so we decided to split up and explore around for a bit. Brenton and Helena set of towards the mage’s quarters in search of some much-needed spell components... Taryn tagged along as expected. The rogue was quiet, but he was fiercely loyal to his runecaster companion, a quality I found quite admirable.
That left just Hilda and I to grift about the city streets… and I didn’t mind that one bit. First, we made our way through the inner rows of shale-colored buildings until we reached the arena register’s office. It was small squared structure with groups of players huddled in groups around the outside… perspective tournament-goers, perhaps.
We weaved our way through until we made it into the office where the tournament registration board was posted. Finally, after days fighting and travel, we’d made it,
My eyes went wide as I caught sight of just how many pieces of parchment were posted to the wall. Nearly a thousand names were inked onto the yellowish paper… one thousand entrants! I tried to wrap my head around the logistics of a tournament that size. Single combat would have us fighting for weeks…. Just what were they planning to do?
Hilda reached her hand over my shoulder and penned her name under my own, then casually let her arm fall onto my shoulder. I pivoted so our eyes met and gave her a wry grin. “So, do you plan on wearing armor into this grand melee?”
“I don’t think so.” She said with a shake of her head. “It just… doesn’t feel right anymore. You know, when I logged into AGO, I didn’t expect to be stuck living my days out as a guardian. I wanted to try things out… experiment a bit. If I’d known, then maybe I would’ve took some greater consideration into picking my class…”
I leaned in and gave her an encouraging squeeze. “Who knows what’s even possible. They said you could be anything in this game… maybe there is a way to change your class as well.”
Hilda nodded, then returned my affection with a hug of her own. I could feel the heat of my body rising into my cheeks, making them flush.
“You better be careful out there.” I said softly. “With that many people… well, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
She smiled at me, then began to lean in close. My heart raced as… wait, what the hell was that noise?
“SQUAWK!” Ivan seemingly appeared out of nowhere, flapping his wings in my face as he scowled at me with those sharp eyes of his. “I will see to it that the lady guardian does not come to any harm, thank you very much!” He said in a curt tone. The familiar then landed on Hilda’s shoulder, wrapping his wings around his body like a majestic cloak.
And that was that.
><><
After registering for Vazryn’s grand tournament, Hilda and I set out to explore a bit more. Cobblestone streets wrapped around the city in a circular direction, lined with buildings of varied color of shalestone. Players filtered in and out of the street, entering shops, trading wares or even snatching up a quick quest before the tournament. Occasionally, a pair of players would get into a scuffle, but the city guard was quick to descend on them and break it up. Damn, were those NPCs dutiful.
We kept our eyes peeled for any fellow members of Ravenflight, but the guilds representation was seemingly absent in the sprawling city… It was slowly starting to become a concern. Had we joined some sort of shadow organization.
Eventually, the clouds darkened before opening up entirely, showering the city in a much-needed rainfall. Cobblestone streets quickly became flooded with mud and muck as players raced about, seeking shelter from the sudden downpour.
Hilda laughed as we dashed through the street, none too concerned about finding shelter from the rain. Razyr stuck out his tongue and let out a pleased growl as rain water splashed into his mouth… such an odd little creature.
“There!” I said, catching sight and pointing to a humble little building near the end of the road. Three lanterns hung from the overhang of the building’s roof, illuminating a hanging sign on the building front.
Axe and Ale
The Arena’s Top Tavern
“Wipe yer blades, fill yer cups”
I wasn’t sure who’s voted the place the city’s “top tavern”, but a number of recommendations from other players led me to believe that it was true. We dashed down the road towards the tavern as the rain continued to fall.
Drainage was not something that had been implemented in Airrigar as it had in Stormgard, so the water continued to build in the streets and alleys. Snakes, rats, and other variety of vermin began to wash out of there hiding spots, swirling around in the water-logged roads. Really, this city could do for a sewer system.
We’d nearly splashed our way to the doors of the tavern when my foot became lodged on a large, bulbous object. Down I went, crashing into rainwater as a pair of mages standing in the tavern’s doorway burst into laughter. I gave them a quick glare, then turned to see what in the world I’d tripped on.
Sitting there motionless in the rain was a rather large … toad? Or was it a frog? Either way, the creature was quite odd, staring at me with those beady eyes that rested in the folds of its tan-striped skin. The creature let out an exaggerated croak, which I met with an annoyed splash. The thing didn’t move.
“Damned frog.” I muttered as Hilda hoisted me to my feet. She covered her mouth, doing her best not to burst into laughter.
Finally, we made our way into the tavern, a building bustling with activity as dozens of players sat around round tables of oak, passing drinks and sharing stories of hard fought battles. A young elvish man with short-trimmed hair and a cheery disposition rushed around the tavern, dolling out drinks as a trio of sprites flittered around him, dancing on the bubbles that rose from tall glasses of ale.
I scanned the nearly packed establishment, searching for a place to sit. One table had a few openings… a table occupied by man who carefully sipped at a strange green beverage. The man was…. No, it couldn’t be.
“Vic?!” I said, rushing over and taking a seat next to the man who foolishly dubbed himself The_Destroyer.
“Boss!” He replied, slamming his drink on the table and embracing me in an awkward hug. “How the hell have you been?”
“Fair enough.” I replied as Hilda took a seat opposite the man and signaled for another pair of drinks. “Vic… how in the world did you get here?”
The man smiled, a sight that I hadn’t seen much of during his time in our group. “I road down with my guild!”
“Guild?” I asked incredulously. “You joined a guild?”
Vic nodded with enthusiasm. “Think I finally found my place boss. Ya see, I wasn’t cut out to be a warrior, ‘course you probably already knew that. Well, I ended up selling all my gear to buy an accelerated apprenticeship with this blacksmith... and well, now I’m a smith!”
Hilda grinned, coming to the realization that it indeed was possible to change who you were in this world. I glanced over, giving her a knowing look then turned my attention back to Vic. “That still doesn’t tell me how you got all the way to Airrigar.”
“Oh!” Vic said, as if suddenly realizing he hadn’t answered my question. “Well, just a couple days after you left, a new guild began to form up in town.” Vic quickly pulled up a s
tatus menu and displayed it proudly.
Affiliations: Blackwolf Guild (member)
He dismissed the menu and continued. “My new boss is a hell of a guy. Took me and a bunch of the other ‘non-combatants in. Him and his boys take care of us now. I keep everyone armored up, and he makes sure I’m safe and fed. I hate to tell ya boss, but I think he’s gonna win this tournament.”
We’ll see about that.
I started to muster a response, but Vic was no longer paying attention. The door to the tavern creaked open as a lean, muscular man with long chestnut hair and a bow strung across his back entered the tavern. At his side, a mighty wolf strolled, growling at one of the bar’s patrons.
“Hey there he is now…. My guild leader!” Vic rose and began to wave the man over, drawing the man’s gaze to my own. The ranger approached, ignoring Vic as the two of us met eye to eye.
I remained silent as the man shot me a grin. “Well, well, well… what do we have here?” Said Rhylor.
><><
Arden sat in the corner of the darkened room, a small living quarters afforded to him in his guild’s stronghold for his service to Drakengard. At his feet sat a tiny red dragon, a familiar that he had bonded very early in his journey through Aetheria… a rare dragon sprite.
Arden rested his hands on the center of the creature’s back, resting his fingertips on the base of it’s wings. Oh, how easy it would be to just pluck those wings off one by one and watch as…
No, what was he thinking. Arden grimaced as he forced the dark thoughts out of his mind… those terrible inhibitions that clouded his judgement….
The duelist sighed, then leaned back against the cold stone wall. His eyes shifted away from the dragon and over to a silver rapier that rested in the far corner of the room, the blade still sheathed in its scabbard. That blade…. That weapon had belonged to his brother for the briefest of moments… a weapon awarded to him at the conclusion of the culling as his brother breathed in his last breaths of life. That was when it had begun… these maddening thoughts… these,
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